


To Have and To Hold

by LeapAngstily



Series: December Footie Fanfic Giveaway [8]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Arranged Marriage, Infidelity, M/M, Monto has issues, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2861261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another sequel to <i>Written in the Software</i>. Riccardo has three important men in his life and he will have to consider his feelings for each one of them on his wedding day. Memo on the other hand is faced with his slowly growing feelings for Riccardo and everything that comes with it – not all of it good, but not all of it bad, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Written in the Software](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1975503) and [Strangers in the Network](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2836358) – they should be read first for this story to make any sense. 
> 
> Basically, the premise is a dystopian society where a computer program matches everyone up with their “ideal partner” and they are required to marry each other on the threat of imprisonment (for the matched couple as well as other people directly involved).
> 
> Written for my [December Footie Fanfic Giveaway](http://montosmadman.tumblr.com/post/104190423597). There’s still some days left of December, so please do drop me a message if you’re experiencing acute fic needs.
> 
>  

“Memo! Memo, did you know Pippo Inzaghi was invited to your wedding?  _The_  Pippo Inzaghi, the coach of AC Milan?” Chicharito is babbling excitedly, his fast hold on Memo’s arm wrinkling the sleeve of his new suit.  
  
Memo had deliberately ‘forgotten’ to mention to his friends in Mexico that Riccardo knew people from the football world, in fear that the news would attract an unnecessarily large number of people to the wedding. The fuss Chicharito and Andrés – Memo’s best friends since high school – would inevitably make is more than enough for him.  
  
“Of course I knew – he’s the one who paid for the suits,” he reveals with a straight face, pushing his best man’s hands away from the said suit, “Please tell me you didn’t go ask for his autograph?”  
  
“Of course I didn’t! What do you take me for? A kid?” Chicharito huffs at him, pretending to be insulted, and Memo has no heart to tell him it is exactly what he takes him for.  
  
“Did you see Pirlo already? He should be around here somewhere, too,” Memo asks instead, hiding the honest inquiry into a joking demeanour, and fortunately his friend suspects nothing.  
  
Instead, Chicharito’s jaw drops in sudden realization because obviously he had forgotten Andrea and Pippo are married, even though their match must have been one of the most publicized celebrity marriages at the time of their wedding, back when Memo and his friends were just teenagers.  
  
Memo has his own doubts about Andrea and Pippo’s marriage, but he is not about to voice his doubts aloud, not when his own husband-to-be might be involved in the same mess.  
  
“Just make sure you behave – they’re both great people, and I wouldn’t want Riccardo to get into trouble because you kept pestering his friends throughout the reception.”  
  
“What kind of a person is this Riccardo anyways? You never talk about him and he’s obviously been avoiding us since we got here,” Andrés’s question takes Memo by surprise, although it is mostly because he had not even noticed his other friend approaching them.  
  
“What do you want me to tell you? That he’s sweet and gentle and he spoils me with expensive presents every day?” Memo rolls his eyes pointedly, “It’s complicated between us. We’ve only lived together for a few months, so I don’t even know him that well. Yet.”  
  
He glances towards the closed dressing room door as he speaks. Riccardo and Andrea had disappeared in there the moment they had arrived at the Town Hall of Caravaggio – Riccardo’s parents had insisted they should have the wedding in his hometown instead of Milan – while Memo got dressed in the room next door with the help of his mother.  
  
“But he treats you well, right? You like him?” Andrés pushes on and even though Memo knows he only means well, he wishes he would stop because he feels like the more he talks about Riccardo, the less he actually understands.  
  
“Yes, I like him,” he snaps back and his final tone shuts Andrés up immediately.  
  
Memo, on the other hand, is left surprised at his own outburst, because it is at that moment that he realizes he actually means it – he has grown to like Riccardo, even with all his flaws, even with the constant lies and secrets.  
  
With that, he also realizes he wishes it was him in the dressing room with Riccardo instead of Andrea.  
  
Because if there is anything he has realized during his few months in Italy, it is that he will never surpass Andrea among the people Riccardo truly  _needs_  – be it as a friend or something else – and it hurts Memo much more than it should.  
  
  
  
  
  
“The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes,” Andrea reminds Riccardo quietly, splaying his palm on the small of his back gently in attempt to bring him back to the present.  
  
Riccardo keeps staring at his own image in the mirror – the same thing he has been doing since he finished dressing up some ten minutes earlier – the slight pressure against Andrea’s hand as he leans into his touch the only sign he is paying any attention to his surroundings.  
  
“Memo’s probably waiting for you out there – you really should go save him from your nosy relatives,” Andrea tries again, offering Riccardo a crooked smile over his shoulder.  
  
“I lied to his parents when I visited his home after Brazil,” Riccardo whispers suddenly, meeting Andrea’s eyes through the mirror, “I told them I’d take care of their son for them, even though it’s been the other way around from the start.”  
  
“There’s still time to keep that promise,” Andrea reminds him as he slips his arms around Riccardo from behind, pretending to fix his suit jacket in order to stay close to him a bit longer, “You’re just getting started. The real challenge comes after the wedding.”  
  
Riccardo places his hands over Andrea’s right when he is about to pull away, leaning back against his chest, urging Andrea to hug him properly, his arms wrapped firmly around Riccardo’s waist.  
  
“This needs to stop,” Riccardo says softly, all the while leaning his head on Andrea’s shoulder, turning his head to press his nose into Andrea’s hair, “He doesn’t deserve this. He wouldn’t understand.”  
  
“So just go to him,” Andrea tells him with a smile he would like to think is genuine, “I’ll be fine: I’ll always have Pippo no matter what happens between us. It’s Memo you should commit yourself to.”  
  
Riccardo’s shoulders are shaking against him and a look at his face confirms Andrea’s suspicions: there are tears rolling down Riccardo’s cheeks and he is biting the inside of his lip to stop it from trembling.  
  
“Turn around,” Andrea tells him firmly, and the next thing he knows, he has a crying Riccardo in his arms, clinging to him almost desperately, his face pressed against his shoulder. Andrea just lets out a long sigh and pets Riccardo’s hair, patiently waiting until the sobs begin to subside.  
  
“Sorry, it’s just—” Riccardo tries to wipe the tears from his face before continuing, “I just thought, it probably would’ve been like this if I had gone to Giampaolo’s wedding. He begged me to – told me he couldn’t do it alone – and I just ignored his calls and got drunk instead.”  
  
For a second Andrea is almost jealous that Riccardo is crying for his old partner and not him, but then he catches himself before the thought can go any further.  
  
“Have you called him?” he asks quietly, slowly loosening his hold on Riccardo once he is sure no more tears are forthcoming, “I’m sure he’d like to know you’re getting married. Maybe it’s the closure you both need?”  
  
Andrea could not care less about this Giampaolo getting a closure, but he can see it is what Riccardo needs – there is no way he is going to be able to commit himself to Memo when he is still so obviously committed to someone else, even now, even though that person is so out of his reach.  
  
“I can’t. I couldn’t handle it if he didn’t care,” Riccardo bites his lip hesitantly and Andrea takes the chance to wipe away the tear tracks from his face, “And if he did still care – I don’t think I could go through with this marriage if he did.”  
  
“Then you should call him once the ceremony’s all over,” Andrea tells him firmly, glancing at his watch that tells him they have only a few minutes left at most, “You owe yourself that much.”  
  
He lets go of Riccardo completely when Riccardo offers him a careful smile. He takes a tissue box from the counter and hands it to him, “Clean yourself up and come out. They’re all waiting for you out there.”  
  
Memo is standing right behind the door when Andrea walks out, two small flowers for their suit pockets in his hands. His gaze is piercing when it meets Andrea’s, but he says nothing.  
  
“Sorry for taking so long,” Andrea tells him in Spanish, making sure to keep his voice level, “Ricky was having a bit of a mental breakdown. Are you okay?”  
  
“As good as I could be, considering the circumstances,” Memo’s voice fortunately betrays no deceit, so Andrea can breathe a bit more freely again.  
  
He knows he is trying his luck, having not ended things with Riccardo for good by now, but at the same time he believes it needs to be Riccardo’s choice this time around: not another forced breakup because of the faulty system.  
  
He slips his hand into Pippo’s as soon as he sits down in the ceremony hall, enjoying the comfortable closeness.  
  
“Are they okay?” Pippo asks quietly, looking around to make sure no one around them hears the question.  
  
“No, they’re not,” Andrea replies and presses a quick kiss on his husband’s cheek, “But they will be, in the long run. They’re strong enough to make it work.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Riccardo is sitting on the edge of his bed in his childhood bedroom, fiddling with his phone, staring at the screen with Giampaolo’s number on it.  
  
His mother had set the guestroom bed for the ‘newlyweds’ but Riccardo had sneaked out fight after his parents had settled down for the night, telling Memo he could have the room for himself.  
  
Riccardo had hoped they could return back to Milan in the evening after the reception with Pippo and Andrea, but the couple had departed early, leaving them in the clutches of their new extended family.  
  
The wedding ceremony itself had been surprisingly uneventful: mutual vows, exchanged rings, signed papers, and then the faintest brush of Memo’s lips on the side of his mouth when Riccardo had hesitated a moment too long at the “You may kiss the groom.”  
  
Memo had smiled encouragingly and held out his hand for Riccardo to take, taking the charge when Riccardo could not. For a second there, in the only half-filled ceremony hall, Riccardo had wondered if this was what their marriage would always be: Memo offering and Riccardo accepting.  
  
If only he could accept.  
  
There is a soft knock on the door and then it is pushed open, Memo’s fluffy hair the first thing registering in Riccardo’s mind.  
  
“I saw you had the light on,” Memo explains needlessly, walking in slowly when Riccardo offers no protests, “Are you okay? Andrea said you were having the jitters back in the Town Hall.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Riccardo assures him with a smile that is almost genuine, patting the empty space on the bed next to him to invite Memo to sit down with him, “I was just reminiscing a bit, is all. I rarely come to Caravaggio anymore, busy with work and all.”  
  
“So, how does it feel to you? Being married?” Riccardo asks when Memo sits on the bed, so close that his shoulder is brushing against Riccardo’s.  
  
“Not that different from being engaged,” Memo replies with a wry smile, meeting Riccardo’s eyes without hesitation, “To be honest, I’m having hard time thinking of you as my husband.”  
  
“I guess it’ll come when our parents start demanding grandkids, huh?” Riccardo jokes – except the comment reminds him of Giampaolo’s son and of their own plans to have a big family, and he falls silent immediately, staring down at his phone.  
  
Memo does not say anything either, politely waiting for Riccardo to pull himself together, looking around the room curiously.  
  
“I was thinking of calling Giampaolo,” Riccardo finally admits, swiping his smartphone screen to bring back the contact information page, “A closure of sorts. He deserves to know.”  
  
Memo looks down at his phone as well, reading the name and the number on the screen before lifting his eyes to meet Riccardo’s again, “Do you want me to leave? Let you talk in peace?”  
  
“No,” Riccardo replies immediately, surprised when he realizes he actually means it, “I’m just gonna chicken out if I’m alone. Just stay, please?”  
  
Giampaolo answers on the third ring. Riccardo almost hangs up on him.  
  
“Giampi? It’s Riccardo,” he manages to choke out, taking a deep breath to steady his voice. Memo is leaning his head on his shoulder, and Riccardo takes a hold of his hand and pulls it into his lap for extra support.  
  
“Ricky? Is everything alright?” the surprise and worry in Giampaolo’s voice break his heart all over again, but Riccardo knows he needs to get this done.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good,” he says softly, looking down at Memo’s fingers intertwined with his own, “I’m sorry for calling so late. Do you have time to talk? It won’t take long, I promise.”  
  
“You know I always have time for you, Ricky,” Giampaolo’s tone echoes his own, familiar as ever, as if it was only yesterday they last talked, “What is it?”  
  
“I’m married,” the revelation comes out much more bluntly than Riccardo had planned, but at least now it is out in the open, “You remember the man that was with me the other day? Memo? We had the ceremony today, in Caravaggio. He’s my husband now.”  
  
Only stunned silence meets him when he stops talking. Tears are stinging Riccardo’s eyes again, and he is half-expecting Giampaolo to hang up or maybe yell at him. Or worse yet, tell Riccardo he does not care.  
  
“Does he make you happy?” Giampaolo finally asks, his voice breaking at the last word.  
  
“No,” he says hurriedly, but then he stops to think, glancing at Memo who is looking back at him with worry clear in his eyes, “I don’t know. Maybe. We’ll have to see how it goes.”  
  
Giampaolo takes a long breath, but his voice is still trembling when he says: “Congratulations, Ricky. I hope you’ll find happiness. You deserve it.”  
  
Riccardo realizes with a start that Giampaolo must be crying. It makes Riccardo’s own tears fall silently down his cheeks as he answers, “You deserve it too. You always deserved it. I’m sorry I was such a jerk back then.”  
  
“Shut up, Ricky,” Giampaolo chokes out a laugh and Riccardo thinks he might recognize relief in his voice, “You did exactly what I would’ve done too. I fucking loved you. Every single step down that aisle, I never stopped hoping it was you waiting for me in the other end.”  
  
“I love you, too,” Riccardo whispers into the phone. He can feel Memo’s hold on his hand tightening just slightly, giving him the strength to go on.  
  
“Be happy, Ricky,” Giampaolo tells him in a gentle voice, the words almost caressing Riccardo’s ear, “Have a family. Find love. Become happier than I could ever make you. Make it count, please?”  
  
“You know that’s an impossible request,” Riccardo chuckles humourlessly, “But I’ll be damned if I won’t try. He’s worth it, I think.”  
  
There is a woman’s voice from Giampaolo’s end, asking him if he is alright, and Riccardo wants to tell him he wishes he will be happy too. But he cannot do it, not yet. Maybe not ever. So instead he just says: “I’ll call you again sometime. Goodnight, Giampi.”  
  
The first sobs escape his lips the moment he ends the call. He has no time to try and hide it before Memo pulls him into a tight hug, Riccardo’s face pressed against his chest. It is the closest they have been physically since Brazil, and to Riccardo’s surprise it does not feel forced at all.  
  
“You did well, Riccardo. It’ll be fine, I promise it’ll be fine,” Memo is whispering into his hair in his broken Italian, his steady voice calming, reassuring. Riccardo thinks he can almost believe his words.  
  
“Can you stay with me, for tonight?” Riccardo asks Memo when he finally runs out of tears, unwilling to pull away from that warm embrace just yet, “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I’ll understand. It’s just, I probably won’t be able to sleep if I’m alone.”  
  
Memo answers him only with a smile and then he reaches out to wipe the tears from Riccardo’s face. The gesture reminds Riccardo of Andrea so much it almost hurts, but at the same time it is so very different.  
  
Because with Memo, he knows that gesture is meant for him and only him.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> \- The quotes in the pics come from one of the numerous wedding vow scripts available on the internet.  
> \- In my head, the wedding ceremonies in this universe don’t much differ from the civil ceremonies in reality – and just like in reality, there are obviously different options depending on the couple and their needs.  
> \- Sorry, I totally skipped the actual wedding. I just didn’t want to write their families, okay?  
> \- I really need to get around to writing how Andrea and Pippo ended up in their “arrangement” and how Riccardo got mixed up in it. This AU is like a never ending well of plotbunnies.  
> \- I’m probably gonna make a separate series for his AU sometime soon, but for the time being the giveaway fics stay here with the rest, because I’m too lazy to think up a proper name or summary for the series.  
> \- Comments would be much appreciated!


End file.
